


Spooky Arda.

by elveriamoir



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Halloween, Samhain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:29:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 16,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8247169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elveriamoir/pseuds/elveriamoir
Summary: A collection of Samhain/Halloween/Spooky based one shots using Characters from The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the character that are found in the Hobbit or Lord of the Rings. I have merely borrowed them. Arda and its peoples are solely the work of J.R.Tolkien. 
> 
> Warnings: Some disturbing subjects may be approached. Warnings will be stated in the notes at the beginning of all chapters/short stories.

Definitions. 

_Samhain _(pronounced /ˈsɑːwɪn/ sah-win or /ˈsaʊ.ɪn/ sow-in, Irish pronunciation: [sˠaunʲ]) is a Gaelic festival marking the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter or the "darker half" of the year. Traditionally, it is celebrated from the very beginning of one Celtic day to its end, or in the modern calendar, from sunset on 31 October to sunset on 1 November, this places it about halfway between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice. It is one of the four Gaelic seasonal festivals, along with Imbolc, Beltane and Lughnasadh. Historically, it was widely observed throughout Ireland, Scotland and the Isle of Man. Similar festivals are held at the same time of year in other Celtic lands; for example the Brythonic Calan Gaeaf (in Wales), Kalan Gwav (in Cornwall), and Kalan Goañv (in Brittany).__

__It was the time when cattle were brought back down from the summer pastures and when livestock were slaughtered for the winter. As at Beltane, special bonfires were lit. These were deemed to have protective and cleansing powers and there were rituals involving them. Like Beltane, Samhain was seen as a liminal time, when the boundary between this world and the Otherworld could more easily be crossed. This meant the Aos Sí, the 'spirits' or 'fairies', could more easily come into our world. Most scholars see the Aos Sí as remnants of the pagan gods and nature spirits. At Samhain, it was believed that the Aos Sí needed to be propitiated to ensure that the people and their livestock survived the winter. Offerings of food and drink were left outside for them. The souls of the dead were also thought to revisit their homes seeking hospitality. Feasts were had, at which the souls of dead kin were beckoned to attend and a place set at the table for them. Mumming and guising were part of the festival, and involved people going door-to-door in costume (or in disguise), often reciting verses in exchange for food. The costumes may have been a way of imitating, and disguising oneself from, the Aos Sí. Divination rituals and games were also a big part of the festival and often involved nuts and apples._ _

__

___Halloween _or Hallowe'en (a contraction of All Hallows’ Evening), also known as Allhalloween, All Hallows' Eve, or All Saints' Eve, is a celebration observed in a number of countries on 31 October, the eve of the Western Christian feast of All Hallows' Day. It begins the three-day observance of Allhallowtide, the time in the liturgical year dedicated to remembering the dead, including saints (hallows), martyrs, and all the faithful departed.__ _ _

____Halloween activities include trick-or-treating (or the related guising), attending Halloween costume parties, decorating, carving pumpkins into jack-o'-lanterns, lighting bonfires, apple bobbing and divination games, playing pranks, visiting haunted attractions, telling scary stories and watching horror films. In many parts of the world, the Christian religious observances of All Hallows' Eve, including attending church services and lighting candles on the graves of the dead, remain popular, although elsewhere it is a more commercial and secular celebration. Some Christians historically abstained from meat on All Hallows' Eve, a tradition reflected in the eating of certain foods on this vigil day, including apples, potato pancakes and soul cakes._ _ _ _

____ _ _

_____Horror _is a genre seeking to elicit a negative emotional reaction from viewers by playing on the audience's primal fears. Inspired by literature from authors like Edgar Allan Poe, Bram Stoker, and Mary Shelley, horror films have existed for more than a century. The macabre and the supernatural are frequent themes, and may overlap with the fantasy, supernatural fiction and thriller genres.__ _ _ _ _

______Horror films often deal with viewers' nightmares, fears, revulsions and terror of the unknown. Plots within the horror genre often involve the intrusion of an evil force, event, or personage into the everyday world. Prevalent elements include ghosts, extraterrestrials, vampires, werewolves, demons, gore, torture, vicious animals, evil witches, monsters, zombies, cannibals, psychopaths, and serial killers_ _ _ _ _ _


	2. The Ball.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween Story. Thorin and his family are holding a masquarade ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slash.  
>  : Violence.  
>  : Non-con nudity.  
>  :Mentions of death.

The Ball.

The empty ballroom was majestic in its Samhain decorations. Crimson and black velvet hung in swaths across the vaulted ceiling and walls, while the gold brocade curtains were open around the windows, whose leaded panes glowed under the light of thousands of candle flames. The gold wall sconces and crystal chandeliers were the main source of this light, and the metal sparked with the reflected fire. The walls (where they were bare) were painted in a rich deep green and the rosewood parquet floor gleamed under its fresh waxing. From the lower areas of the ceiling hung several rope swings ready for the evening’s entertainment, while a carved rosewood screen hid the area where the musicians would play. Dotted here and there around the walls and hidden in curtained alcoves were several green brocade covered rosewood chairs. Finally, at one end of the ballroom was hung a large golden mirror, ready to reflect the masquerade in all its finery.

%

Suddenly a flurry of movement shattered the eerie calm. Servants and musicians all dressed in black rushed to take their places and no sooner than the final musician had settled than the hosts of the evening appeared.

As the head of his line Thorin was the first to descend the sweeping staircase opposite the ballroom doors. He was dressed head to toe in layers of black lace and velvet. Silver and emeralds gleamed coldly where they caught the light and his face was partially hidden behind a silver embroidered black velvet mask. His knee high boots made no noise as he glided across the polished dance floor and nodded congenially at his staff. He adjusted the emerald tie pin in his black lace cravat and smoothed down the lapels of his leather riding coat. He shook his hair loose and allowed the silver streaked black mane to swing around his face.

His sister Dis followed next, resplended in the family colours of blue and silver. The midnight blue of her lace and velvet dress made the silver embroidery shine. She was smiling behind her mask of midnight blue lace and the family jewels shone against her pale skin. A magnificent choker of silver and sapphires was clasped around her neck the waterfall of jewels cascading over her large bosom. Her bare arms were wrapped in bracelets and torcs of engraved silver, while a single ring of the highest carrot sapphire sat on the middle finger of her left hand. Her masses of jet black hair were pinned around the arms of a tiara that seemed to glow with blue flames in the candle light. As she reached her brother she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and taking his hand moved to stand at his left as she too turned to face the doors.

Next were the two heirs of the family. Barely five years apart in age, but in looks as different as day was night. Fili the eldest of the two stood resplended in a frock coat of silver brocade, his silvery lace shirt and pale blue velvet trousers made his gold hair and pale skin glow. His mask covered the left half of his face and the inky blue swirls of material seemed to move of their own accord. At his side stood Kili, the only member of the family openly showing emotion even though his handsome face was covered in a half mask of silver lace and his shoulder length black hair was caught back with a simple silver clasp. Dressed in the same outfit as his brother they had further enhanced their differences by Kili choosing to wear an inky brocade for his frock coat, with midnight blue lace for his shirt and the darkest blue velvet for his breeches. Hands entwined they walked the length of the floor towards their uncle and mother, Fili’s grey leather boots and Kili’s navy leather boots making no sound as they took their positions just behind their elders.

%

No sooner had their hands separated than the guests started to arrive. Beautifully haunting music filled the ballroom as the black dressed butler hustled masked guests into the spacious ballroom. The hosts remained unmoving as their unimaginatively dressed guests slipped into their home and began to mingle. It wasn’t until a young gentleman with curly amber hair stepped through the black and green doors that they showed any signs of animation. Thorin’s face twitched as he forced down a smile and he watched in silence as the shorter than average male glanced with a bored eye around the ballroom, ignoring them as well as they were ignoring him. Behind him he heard Fili whisper “Bilbo” with relief and a small gesture of his hand had his eldest heir slipping into the crowd to greet the first true friend to arrive. Bilbo was dressed in the darkest of green velvet and lace, a pair of close fitting velvet trousers clung to his form as did the fine lace shirt. His sea green eyes gleamed with mischief behind his leaf patterned forest green mask. With his bare feet and the slightly pointed ears sticking through his curls the masses were giving him a wide berth, until Fili swept up to him and swept him onto the dance floor. A flash of white teeth in his direction and Thorin dragged his eyes away from thoughts of his Samhain gift to watch the rest of his guests arrive.

More unimaginative costumes arrived before a group of three stood in the door way, they like Bilbo before them held their heads high and looked around the room with a bored look. Despite the movements that showed them to be family they were dressed in completely different designs, only the design of their masks showing any similarities. At the head stood a broad male, silver hair braided back into a fantastically complicated design. He wore a mask of swirling white gold studded with chips of obsidian. The rest of his outfit was as stark and beautiful as his mask. Black velvet dancing pumps embroidered with white gold, black silk stockings with black velvet breaches. His black silk shit had waterfall ruffles at the wrists and throat with buttons of white gold and a pin of the same sparking in the candle light. A black brocade waistcoat with two buttons of obsidian clung to his muscled form and Thorin nodded once at him as Dori stepped away to make room for the youngest of his brothers.

Ori was one of the youngest of the family friend’s present, even if he was older than the masses by several centuries. His auburn tinted blond hair was spiked on his head and the yellow gold mask he had chosen was studded with chips of garnet. Thorin nodded with amusement the lad had chosen the die the tips of his spiked hair the same deep red as the garnets of his mask. His outfit was as unique to him as his hair. Gold webbing covered him from his neck to the top of his trousers and finished in points over his hands. Over that he had layered a sleeveless jumper with a deep V-neck in the deepest of reds, it wasn’t until he moved and placed a delicate hand on his hip that Thorin noticed it was as sheer as the webbing under it. Wine coloured skin tight velvet cords and ankle boots of garnet leather finished the look. It barely took a twitch of his hand for his youngest heir to rush away from them and sweep the lad into the dance.

Ori’s departure left Thorin with a good view of the remaining brother. Beside him he heard his sister take an unneeded gasp of air as she too got a good look at Nori of Ri. His rich auburn hair hung down his back to his knees and glowed in the candle light. His forest green eyes sparkled as he heard her gasp from across the room and he flashed a smile at them, momentarily breaking character, then returning to his bored persona. Thorin winced as he caught sight of a fang in that grin and resigned himself for an eventful evening. He had to admit Nori had chosen his outfit well. A death mask of rose gold studded with diamonds drew all eyes to his and if they could drag their eyes away then the rest of the outfit would enrapture them. A black velvet cloak with rose gold chain, was just visible under his hair. Red leather boots into which were tucked black leather sinfully tight breeches, their laces hidden rose gold and diamond belt. Chains of the same materials hung in loops down his left leg and finally his bare chest showed several runic tattoos swirling over the porcelain whiteness of his skin. In a blink Nori was before them and pressing a kiss to Dis’ hand. Thorin almost felt sorry for the masses, almost. Nori shot him a grin and disappeared into the crowd.

It seemed the masses had finished arriving while Thorin had been evaluating Nori as his two closest friends now stood at the entrance to the door way. Dwalin would have been distinctive anywhere and he stood a head and shoulders above the masses. He was dressed in a sheer garnet shirt, over which he was wearing a dark brown leather war harness. His leather trousers were of the same colour, but looser to allow him more movement and his feet were in worn leather boots. His mask was a simple design of brown leather, but Thorin caught a glimpse of yellow gold embroidery and a single garnet stud as with a flash of fang Dwalin slipped into the masses and snagged himself a dance partner by dint of merely picking someone up and swirling them around.

Balin was shaking his head fondly at his brother’s actions as he glanced around the ballroom. His mask was a simple one of blue and black, and he had chosen to dress in a pair of loose cord trousers of blue and a silver embroidered smoking jacket of black velvet. His white hair matched the crisp white cravat perfectly and he strode across the dance floor on feet clad in soft black leather boots. He gripped Thorin’s hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the cheek of Dis. With a giggle she linked her arm through his and Thorin blocked out their whispers to watch the arrival of his last few guests.

The Ur family was next and Thorin felt a tug that only three of the clan had survived the cleansing, two brothers and one cousin stood in the doorway to his ballroom. Bofur, Bombur and Bifur were dressed in greys and browns and yet with their scars, pale skin and striking hair the masses still turned to peer at them. Bifur’s hard eyes scanned the hall and Thorin knew he had seen someone he recognised when a fang slipped free from behind pale lips. The male’s white strike black hair was drawn away from the axe embedded in his forehead and the beard was braided so the white was striking. His soft grey mask had no adornment, nor did the soft grey leather of his outfit. He cocked his head with recognition at Thorin before stepping into the heaving masses. Bombur dressed head to toe in rich brown cord and velvets wore a mask of brown leather, his red hair braided with talismans of wood, stone and bones. He too merely nodded in recognition at Thorin before slipping into the crowd of dancers with a grace that belied his size. Bofur’s eyes were steel behind his patchwork mask and his hair was pulled into two braids stiffened to curve upwards. He wore a grey fur hat on his head and a leather jerkin of a grey leather. His simple brown leather trousers were tucked into hardy boots of the same colour and the muscles in his bare arms flexed as he offered a small salute to Thorin before disappearing after his family into the dancers.

Oin and Gloin were the last to arrive and did so with their spouses as the servants were slipping quietly from the ballroom. Gloin’s distinctive red hair drew eyes to them again and Thorin allowed his own fangs to slip for a second as the masses stilled again as they took in the group of four. Gloin’s mask was a simple purple velvet and he was dressed in a smart three-piece suit of dark purple and tarnished gold. Beside him his wife’s mask was one of tarnished gold, as was her knee length corseted dress. Dark purple heels and corset laces completed her look. Oin’s eyes were calculating behind his mask of rose fabric and he was wearing a tunic of black crushed velvet, edged in the rose pink and a pair of black linen pants. His wife’s mask was of black velvet and she was wearing a tunic of rose-pink, crushed velvet and knee length black leather gladiator sandals. The four of them were smiling widely and their elongated eye teeth were clearly visible.

Thorin decided to step forward as the doors swung shut behind his final four guests and raised his arms in welcome as they slipped unhindered towards him. He felt movement around him and knew his family and friends had surrounded him. He grinned wickedly flashing his own extended eye teeth and dropping an arm to wrap it around Bilbo’s shoulders.

“I wish to welcome my friends,” he stated gravely despite his smile. “And I thank you all for deciding to come. We will feed well tonight.”

Nori was the first to step forward, dropping his cloak as he did, his green eyes glowing behind his mask and pale skin glowing in the candle light. Thorin settled more comfortably against Bilbo’s side as they watched the trickster beckon forward a young lady with masses of black ringlets, dressed in an extravagant black ball gown. They watched as Nori’s grin grew as she stepped up without fear, she was completely in his thrall, but Thorin would place money that she would be released before Nori had his fun. They watched as he traced patterns on her skin with normal nails and felt the fear setting in the room as he stepped away. Her eyes suddenly fixed on him with fear and they knew he’d dropped the thrall. “Turn around and face your peers my lamb,” Nori’s voice was dripping with lust by now and the watched as she turned her back on him shaking with fear. Nori stepped forwards so he was pressed against her back and whispered something in her ear. Thorin laughed darkly and quietly as the silly girl agreed to be disrobed in front of everyone in the room if he just let her live, that she would do what he wanted if she didn’t die that night. A sharp rip filled the air as nails that were once short and blunt cut through the heavy material of her dress and undergarments as if they weren’t there. She cried out and tried to cover herself even as Nori caught her arms and pulled them around her back. “Now Pet,” he snarled, “You gave me your word.” He paused and rand his free hand across her stomach. “Step forward and give us a little twirl my lamb.” He pushed her forwards and as she shakily spun in a circle tutted. “Now pet, that isn’t how you show off is it.” He stalked forward and once again turned her so she was face the masses watching them riveted in fear. In one swift move he pulled her hands behind her back and snarled in her ear. Sobbing she nodded and he stepped away again and Thorin knew he wasn’t the only one whose restraint was being tested as the scent of her fear filled their senses. She raised her hands above her head and sashayed shakily around in a circle, giving everyone there time to take in her pert breasts and the triangle of hair between her legs.

Nori chuckled as he stepped fully away from her and knelt before Thorin. “Your Majesty, since I gave my word I would let her live what do you want to do with her?”

Thorin met green eyes with his stormy grey ones and grinned, “Yes I suppose that is an issue.” He eyed the frozen female, “What say I give her a head start from the rest of us?” His voice was loud and he saw her relax slightly and grinned even wider. “Of course that means she has to run through all of the back streets naked if she gets away from anyone who wishes to taste her.” He met her brown eyes and smirked at the horrified look that was now on her face. “I’ll give her till the count of ten until we feed.” He looked down at Nori, “Since you can’t take part who do you wish to choose?”  
Silence fell sudden and heavy as Nori’s green eyes fixed on the crowd, he put a finger to his lips seemingly pondering. Fili’s voice broke the silence, “Eight, Nine…” his blue eyes fixed on the girl and Thorin heard her start running. Fili’s voice dropped as he pronounced “Ten!”

%

Farin paused as he heard the shriek of terror from the ballroom be cut off. He did hope the Master would leave them some to play with, after all blood would mean they would be strong enough to handle any threats to the Master. He shuddered as he remembered the cleansings. Only a handful of the true Vampyrs, the protectors of humans and the vampires alike had survived. That they were all currently in the ballroom of Master’s home destroying the family of those who had massacred their own was only fair. He nodded as a rumpled looking Bilbo sauntered out of the ballroom. There was a smear of blood on his lips and his sea green eyes glowed with blood lust.

“Ah Farin,” he stated in a friendly tone. “Thorin wishes for the staff to have their fun with the survivors.” He lowered his voice conspiritively as the Vampyrs stumbled from the ballroom and separated off, either rushing for bedrooms or the darkness of the gardens. “He believes that there are several of those still alive who were behind the destruction of your colony.”

Farin bowed low as Thorin approached and watched dispassionately as his Master claimed Bilbo’s mouth in a searing kiss, tongue greedily cleaning the blood away. Thorin looked up. “Well what are you waiting for?”

Farin grinned as hissed loudly as his own fangs dropped. The servants converged on the open doors of the ballroom and Bilbo smirked as he heard the renewed cries of fear coming from those who thought they had been spared. “Now where were we?”

Thorin grabbed the back of his thighs and lifted. “Here my love?”

%

Nori pulled Bifur through the dark gardens and allowed himself to be slammed against a marble statue with enough force to crack it. He panted as wicked teeth nipped at his neck and groaned long and hard as he was palmed through his trousers. “I take it you liked your gift my love?”  
Bifur paused and looked up at him though dark eyelashes. “Yes,” he growled, “Revenge is a dish most definitely best served cold.” He considered something, “The fact that her father was in the audience and under my thrall was even better.”

Nori laughed loudly, the sound dissolving into a groan as he was lifted to straddle Bifur’s hips. Claws paused at the laces of his trousers and he struggled to find his voice, “Dammit Bifur, just trash them!”

Notes:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Vampires: _  
> A vampire is a being from folklore who subsists by feeding on the life essence (generally in the form of blood) of the living. In European folklore, vampires were undead beings that often visited loved ones and caused mischief or deaths in the neighbourhoods they inhabited when they were alive. They wore shrouds and were often described as bloated and of ruddy or dark countenance, markedly different from today's gaunt, pale vampire which dates from the early 19th century. Although vampiric entities have been recorded in most cultures, the term vampire was not popularized in the West until the early 18th century, after an influx of vampire superstition into Western Europe from areas where vampire legends were frequent, such as the Balkans and Eastern Europe, although local variants were also known by different names, such as shtriga in Albania, vrykolakas in Greece and strigoi in Romania. This increased level of vampire superstition in Europe led to mass hysteria and in some cases resulted in corpses actually being staked and people being accused of vampirism.__
> 
> __In modern times, however, the vampire is generally held to be a fictitious entity, although belief in similar vampiric creatures such as the chupacabra still persists in some cultures. Early folk belief in vampires has sometimes been ascribed to the ignorance of the body's process of decomposition after death and how people in pre-industrial societies tried to rationalise this, creating the figure of the vampire to explain the mysteries of death. Porphyria was also linked with legends of vampirism in 1985 and received much media exposure, but has since been largely discredited._ _
> 
> __The charismatic and sophisticated vampire of modern fiction was born in 1819 with the publication of The Vampyre by John Polidori; the story was highly successful and arguably the most influential vampire work of the early 19th century. However, it is Bram Stoker's 1897 novel Dracula which is remembered as the quintessential vampire novel and provided the basis of the modern vampire legend. The success of this book spawned a distinctive vampire genre, still popular in the 21st century, with books, films, and television shows. The vampire has since become a dominant figure in the horror genre._ _


	3. Samhain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where this came from, but it includes Nori, Dori and Ori. AS it is a short story any more would give it away, so read it and find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None. 
> 
> If you think I need some please let me know.

Samhain.

 

Nori was as giddy as a school girl as he made his way home. Samhain was his favourite holiday of the year. A celebration of not only the ancestors, but of the turning of the year. He half skipped, half danced as he weaved through the crush of people filling the streets. The festival wouldn’t start until much later and Nori wanted to get home, have some of his brother’s fabled Samhain Stew and then get ready for when darkness fell.

 

He was almost dragged through the door by his youngest brother and a bowl of steaming stew was shoved into his hands by an impatient Dori. Nori practically inhaled the food, savouring the taste as he watched his brothers become antsy. He obviously wasn’t the only member of the Ri family who loved the holiday.

 

%

 

Ori was practically dancing where he stood and Nori finally took pity on him and pushed up from the table. He was towed along to Ori’s room where he started to help Ori into his outfit. He decided it was a good job none of them were bashful as he realised Ori was already naked and wriggling into skin tight leather pants. Nori chuckled as his brother swore as he finally got the white trousers up and fastened the laces. Nori knelt and helped Ori into the knee length leather boots. He grumbled under his breath as the pearl-shot laces caught on his calluses.

 

Standing back he reached for the white tabard that would complete his brother’s outfit. Sliding it easily over mousey brown hair he carefully laced the sides up. The pearlescent symbol on the front seemed to glow in the candle light and he forced the now twitchy youngster to sit. It took him no time to fasten the white and pearl bracers around his brother’s upper arms, although he did falter on the laces on the wrist guards. Satisfied the leather was snug and wouldn’t chafe Nori started on Ori’s hair. The mousy tangle transformed under his hands, deft fingers wound in tiny braids, trailing lengths of pearl threads through them, while he fixed them with tiny white seed pearls. Confident the hair would hold, Nori walked around his brother and crouched before him. With a steady hand he whitened out his brother’s lips and brushed a pearlescent powder over the lad’s cheek bones and eyelids. He pulled Ori to his feet and pushed the white oak and pearl stave into his brother’s hand, before handing him the white and pearl half mask.

 

%

 

He led Ori into the sitting room and forced him to sit still before rushing to help Dori. The sound of the last of the day bells rang through the streets and he only had an hour to get ready and get to the square for the festival. Dori was thankfully already in his brown leather pants when Nori arrived. He shot his oldest brother a sheepish grin and knelt to help him on with the brown knee length boots, taking a moment to reverently brush his fingers over the bronze and gold embroidered leaves on them Nori made short work of the dark green laces gracing their length. Dori had managed to get his own wrist guards on as Nori worked and he heaved a thankful sigh. The quicker he got Dori and Ori out the quicker he could dress.

 

Unlike Ori, Dori had gone for a half sleeved tunic and Nori dropped it cautiously over his brother’s head, being carefully not to muse Dori’s already fantastically braided grey hair and beard. Once the difficult part was done Nori allowed himself to fuss, straightening the green and brown patterned velvet with practised ease. He returned his brother’s smirk as he fixed the heavily embroidered belt of bronze, gold, green and brown around Dori’s waist. Outfit complete he added the final touch to Dori’s costume. A crown made of cloth flowers and leaves, complete with semi-precious stones. He sat it carefully on the top of Dori’s elegant up do, attaching it with the small clips his oldest brother had worked into the design. The bronze, gold, topaz, green, brown, yellow and malachite glowed against the steel grey of Dori’s hair.

 

Holding back a huff Nori made short work of Dori’s make-up. He painted his brother’s lips a dark green, brushed a powder of bronze over the high cheek bones (making sure to get none in the beard. The ribbons green woven there were enough). Finally he coloured Dori’s eyelids and up to his eyebrow with a gold powder.

 

Nori nodded as he stepped back and Dori clapped him on the corner as he left the room, cane of polished rosewood under one arm and fixing his leaf patterned mask with the other.

 

%

 

Nori waited until he heard the door shut behind his brothers before he stepped into his own rooms. He carefully opened the chest that contained his costume and reverently removed it section by section. Laying it out ready he turned from the bed, stripping off as he walked towards the ewer and large dish to wash away the grim of the day. Once clean he un-braided his hair and ran a comb through it, working in sandalwood and sage oil to make it gleam. Only when it reflected a red glow in the light of the candles did he deem it perfect. Letting most of the mass fall down his back to brush the back of his thighs he made two simple braids in the front, working them around his head in a simple crown of hair. Checking in the mirror and satisfied they were lying straight he tied them off with a ribbon of black velvet.

 

The first part of his outfit he went for were the net gloves. Made in a fishnet pattern with velvet cuffs they covered from his knuckles to midway on his bicep, the only thing stopping them riding up being the holes for his thumbs. Years of practice had them sitting flat in moments and reached for his trousers next. Made of the softest black leather and laced down the sides they had once presented a challenge to get into. Now he managed to wiggle into them, skilfully avoiding displacing the laces down each leg. He carefully fastened the laces at the front and straightened the lines down the outside of his legs. The pale skin seemed to glow under the dark material and he smirked. Unlike his brothers he forewent a traditional shirt. Instead he fastened a black leather war harness across his chest and back. The dark material (what there was of it) clung like a second skin and Nori ran a hand over the swirling tattoo it revealed, before straightening the black metal clasps.

 

He checked himself in the floor length mirror and nodded when he was satisfied what he saw. He might not be overly muscular, but all of his bare skin and clinging leather hinted at lean muscle. Chuckling darkly he slid his feet into the black boots he had made especially for the holiday. They stopped halfway up his calves, were laced with black chain instead of cord and had platform soles, finally the top fastened with a single buckle of black metal shaped in the form of a grinning skull with fangs. Straightening up he panted slightly and brushed his hair back over his shoulders.

 

He glanced out of his window before he started to add the final touches to his outfit. The sun was just starting to paint the sky a blood red and he let out a sigh of relief, he wouldn’t be late after all. A velvet collar went around his throat, and he settled the hanging gems against his pale skin. The largest gem, a garnet of a particularly blood red was carved with the symbol of Odin and nestled in the hollow of his throat. Satisfied he walked across to the dressing table and started the work on his face. His lips were coloured a deep red, a matt colour that made them seem like they swallowed the light. His cheeks were next and he blended a powder of the palest grey under his cheekbones to give yet more definition to them (He had been told his natural cheek bones were sharp enough to cut glass and he was just taking advantage of the fact.) The cheek bones himself he dusted with a white powder, highlighting them further against his pale skin. Finally he started work on his eyes. Green eyes stared back at him from the glass as he skilfully worked the liquid and powder around them. When he was done they seemed to glow with power from the darkness in which they sat.

 

Finally he was ready for his mask and staff. The mask was almost beautiful in its horror. A half mask though it was, the bone white surface was painted with the marks of Odin and Mahal, the dark red of the dye used swallowing light eerily. Carved in a mirrad of swirling patterns and shaped to his face, it ended with two fangs curling down over his own mouth. Fixing a grim smile onto his face Nori picked up the staff and allowed himself a few moments to admire it. A work from a master craftsman it was carved from a single bough of black ebony and studded with jet and onyx. The top of the staff, level with his eyes, held yet another black-red garnet.

 

%

 

Ori was the first of the Ri brothers to appear and the crowd gathered in the square fell silent as the white dressed youth glided across to the large fire. In the flickering light he seemed to glow and the crowd held its breath as he knelt down and placed his offering into the flames. A white glow leapt up from it and as pearl-like sparks rained down the crowd began to chatter among themselves. Ori nodded and offered a prayer to the gods, before he stepped up to a marble podium. He sank into the throne carved there and looked across the milling crowd. He nodded when he caught the eyes of his fellow dawn priests, before settling back to watch the festival. He wouldn’t play a large role in this one, nor would his fellows, they were merely here to keep the balance.

 

%

 

Nearly a full bell passed before Dori stepped into the light given off by the fire. Again silence fell over the gathering and they watched as he offered the flames a short bow before placing his offering into their depths. A gasp of awe went up from the crowd and they turned their faces upwards to gaze at the swirling light show of green and gold leaves. Dori walked over to the wooden podium and sat gracefully on the carved throne there. He raised a hand in greeting to his fellow harvest priests before turning back to watch the festival. He was here only to keep the balance, his role was drawing to a close for the year.

 

%

 

Time passed and the gathering became more rowdy as mead was consumed. Nori watched from the shadows. He smiled a peaceful smile at Ori’s offering and chuckled softly at Dori’s offering. He watched from behind hood eyes as the priests of his kin mingled with the crowd. He could never understand why they wouldn’t stand with the head of their orders at such important times. As the only priest of his order Nori sometimes felt a bone deep weariness and separation. Even with his brothers he was sometimes held apart. Yet as the night wore on his heart ache fled and his poise became confident and proud. He was the only one capable of being a priest of this order. He was the only one chosen and it was his honour and duty to fulfil his oaths.

 

The largest of the fires dwindled and sparked out, sending the gathering into flickering shadows. Nori stepped forward even as the midnight bell rang out. His grin was wicked as the drunken crowd fell into a deep silence. He stepped forward, his walk sinuous as he moved through the crowd. His hair swung with his hips as his laughter broke forth wild and lust filled. Tonight was his night. He leapt into the air, landing easily on one of the bars above the once roaring central fire. Using his staff for balance Nori began a series of acrobatics that drew gasps from the watching crowd. In the midst of his reel he deliberately dropped his offering and as he raised his arms the fire beneath him roared into life again. He sprung from the bar, swinging away from the flames now raging behind him. His body glowed with sweat and for a moment he seemed to take on the flames behind him.

 

As he landed sparks of black pearl and garnet rained down and a gong was heard, followed by the deep rumbling of drums. Nori smiled with the mouth of a wolf as he walked to the final podium. The throne was of carved onyx, studded with garnets and he sank onto it with a relieved sigh. Yet it wasn’t until the food was being brought forward and loaded onto the massive spits that he dared believe he had gotten threw another ceremony. From tonight until the new year he was the head priest. He smiled tonight symbolised the end of the harvest and the start of the cold, and yet his people still celebrated it as if it were the harvest or the restart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Samhain is celebrated from sunset on October 31 to sunset on November 1, almost halfway between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice.
> 
> * Rituals surrounding Samhain include bonfires, healing, dancing, thanksgiving, and honouring of the dead.
> 
> *Samhain is considered a liminal time, when the veil between life and death grows thin. Food is set aside for ancestors and protective spirits, and rituals honouring the dead take place.
> 
> *At Samhain time looses all meaning and the past, present, and future are one. The dead, and the denizens of the Other World, walk among the living. It is a time of fairies, ghosts, demons, and witches. Winter itself is the Season of Ghosts, and Samhain is the night of their release from the Underworld. Many people lit bonfires to keep the evil spirits at bay. Often a torch was lit and carried around the boundaries of the home and farm, to protect the property and residents against the spirits throughout the winter.
> 
> * _Odin's Rune: Ansuz:_
> 
> __English Letter Equivalent  
>  A as in hat. Long A as in harm, lawn._ _
> 
> __Translation  
>  A god. Odin, (in reverse Loki - messenger of the gods and a trickster)_ _
> 
> __Meaning  
>  Knowledge. Wisdom. Communication. The mouth. A message._ _
> 
> __Characteristics  
>  Ansuz is primarily Odin's rune and represents communication, creativity, controlled and divine power. Spiritually, it is the rune of prophecy and revelation. It also encompasses the ideas of wisdom, knowledge, reason, and therefore of instruction and good advice. It might also refer to a test, examination, or perhaps an interview. It can mean a letter, book, paper, message or other information. Because Loki was a renowned trickster, Ansuz reversed may also portend a surprise, trick or subterfuge._ _
> 
> ___The Rune Poem: Verse IV Ansuz _  
>  _The Mouth is the source of every speech, _  
>  _The mainstay of wisdom, _  
>  _And solace of sages, _  
>  _And the happiness and hope of every eorl. ____________ _
> 
> ____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
> 
> _____________ODIN _  
> In Germanic mythology, Odin (from Old Norse Óðinn) is a widely revered god. In Norse mythology, from which stems most of our information about the god, Odin is associated with healing, death, royalty, the gallows, knowledge, battle, sorcery, poetry, frenzy, and the runic alphabet.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	4. Ghost stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Campfire ghost story twisted to fit with Ori.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Disturbing death.

Ghost stories.

All the dwarves working in the forge of the blacksmiths soon learned to be very careful around the furnace and the ladles full of molten steel. Every worker feared what would happen if the chains holding the ladles full of hot liquid ever broke while they passed overhead. Burning to death in molten steel might be a quick demise, but it would be agonizing.

One poor fellow who used to work in the forge had tripped over a rigger hose back in the age of Durin VI and had fallen into a ladle of hot steel. His body was immediately liquefied; there was nothing left for his family to bury save for a small nugget of steel that was skimmed from the tainted ladle before its contents was dumped into a vacant lot. From that day onward, the workers said that the dwarf's ghost clanked and moaned its way around the forge at night, searching for his dead body.

Now the newest steel worker, a young dwarf by the name of Ori and recently moved to Erebor, laughed mockingly when he heard the story about the ghost. He even volunteered to work the late shift just to prove to the other dwarves that they were wrong about the ghost. The young dwarf liked the extra money this earned him, and soon his reputation for fearlessness and his scorn for the ghost were the talk of the Forge.

There came an evening the young dwarf found himself alone on the furnace floor. It was the slow time between shifts, and by rights he should already be on his way home. However, he had stayed behind for a moment to complete a small task, and he hummed contently to himself as he bent over his work. He gradually became aware of a muffled sound coming from somewhere to his left. He ignored it, since the mechanized processes all around him often made strange sounds.

The sound grew louder, and the young dwarf looked up from his labours to see a glowing white mist gathering in the air a few yards away from where he stood. The mist emitted a faint rapping noise, which slowly clarified into steady thud of a dwarf's approaching footsteps.

The dwarf gasped, his arms breaking out into goose-bumps in spite of the heat from the furnace. He watched with unblinking eyes and pounding heart as the mist solidified into the glowing figure of a dwarf making his rounds. Suddenly, the dwarf tripped and fell downwards in slow motion toward a shimmering ladle full of steaming molten steel. The phantom dwarf's body plunged into the hot liquid, and he tried in vain to grab the sides of the ladle and pull himself out, unwilling to believe that he was doomed. Then, his body liquefying beneath him and his face hideously twisted with pain, the ghostly dwarf screamed desperately for someone to save him as he sank downward into the red-hot ladle. With a final, hair-raising shriek, the apparition disappeared.

The young dwarf's scream of sheer terror was so loud that it cut through the voice of the phantom, echoing and re-echoing through the furnace room. Dropping his tools as if he himself were burning up, the young man raced for the exit, followed by the gut-wrenching sound of maniacal laughter.

The dwarf packed his bag as soon as he got back to his lodgings and returned home, never to enter a forge again, he took up scribing. But the ghost of the dead steel worker continued to haunt the blacksmiths until the day the dragon came.

They say that to this day, dwarves walking near the spot where the old blacksmiths once stood can still hear the steel worker's dying scream, followed by the sound of maniacal laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A ghost story may be any piece of fiction, or drama, that includes a ghost, or simply takes as a premise the possibility of ghosts or characters' belief in them. The "ghost" may appear of its own accord or be summoned by magic. Linked to the ghost is the idea of "hauntings", where a supernatural entity is tied to a place, object or person.
> 
> Colloquially, the term "ghost story" can refer to any kind of scary story. In a narrower sense, the ghost story has been developed as a short story format, within genre fiction. It is a form of supernatural fiction and specifically of weird fiction, and is often a horror story.
> 
> While ghost stories are often explicitly meant to be scary, they have been written to serve all sorts of purposes, from comedy to morality tales. Ghosts often appear in the narrative as sentinels or prophets of things to come. Belief in ghosts is found in all cultures around the world, and thus ghost stories may be passed down orally or in written form.


	5. Haunted House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori is in this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Grusome death.

Haunted House.

Nori was nervous when his husband said they were to stay in the abandoned house, for it contained the corpse of the hermit who once lived there, enshrined in a coffin in the loft. It was an old custom and one no longer popular among the people of Durin, most preferring to be placed upon pyres and their souls released to the heavens, but the hermit had insisted upon it before his death. There was good hunting in this place, his husband had declared, and so they moved in and Nori had unpacked their few belongings in the front room, refusing to go up into the loft where the hermit's body lay.

When his husband left to hunt, he immediately put their adopted daughter in the sling on his back and went to look for roots and berries, staying away until his husband returned with the meat. As he prepared the evening meal for them, his husband, tired from his hunting, and despite Nori's pleas to remain on the ground floor, climbed up into the loft to rest.

The hut soon filled with the delicious smell of roasting meat. Nori was sorting through the berries when he heard a muffled cry and the crunch of breaking bones. As he stared upward, frozen in horror, blood started to drip from the rafters.

Nori crept silently to the far corner of the room where he could see up into the loft. A skeleton with glowing red eye sockets was feasting on the body of his husband. Its teeth and chin covered with blood.

Their daughter stirred restlessly at his back, and he knew that he had to get away immediately.

"I am going to run down to the stream to fetch water for the broth," he called toward the loft. "I will be right back." Nori took the pail and walked toward the stream, trying to appear normal. As soon as he was out of sight among the trees, he started to run as fast as he could. He heard a terrible howl from the direction of the house as the creature heard them escaping and started to pursue. The red haired dwarf stumbled desperately through the woods, the creature's howls growing closer as it pursued them. His little daughter wailed in fright at his back as he fled in terror, sobbing and was almost without hope, the monster was gaining on him.

In a last act of despair, he shouted the Durin distress cry, hoping someone would be near enough to hear it. His call was taken up and answered by the warriors from the village. He could hear the creature breathing behind him as he sprinted to the trees at the edge of the village. Here, his strength failed him, and he collapsed to the ground.

Just before the monster could pounce on them, a party of warriors burst through the gates of the village chasing the skeleton away. They swung their torches wide, and the skeleton retreated farther into the woods. The warriors chased the creature back to the hermit's house, and set fire to the cabin. As the flames encompassed the house, a terrible howling and roaring came from the loft, and the vampire hermit fled into the woods in the form of a rabbit, never again to plague the red-haired dwarf or his daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A haunted house is a house or other building often perceived as being inhabited by disembodied spirits of the deceased who may have been former residents or were familiar with the property. Parapsychologists attribute haunting to the spirits of the dead and the effect of violent or tragic events in the building's past such as murder, accidental death, or suicide.  
>  More scientific explanations for the perception that a house is haunted include misinterpreting noises naturally present in structures, waking dreams, suggestibility, and the effect of toxic substances in environments that can cause hallucinations.


	6. Headless Horseman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bifur and a hog...Not your traditional headless horseman story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Grizzly death of a humanoid and of a beloved pet.  
>  : Magic.

Headless Horseman.

Way back in the deep woods there lived a scrawny old dwarf who had a reputation for being the best conjure in the Rhovanion. With his bedraggled black-and-grey hair, funny eyes - one yellow and one green - and the axe in his forehead, Old Bifur was not a pretty picture, but he was the best there was at fixing what ailed a man, and that was all that counted.

Old Bifur's house was full of herbs and roots and bottles filled with conjuring medicine. The walls were lined with strange books brimming with magical spells. Old Bifur was the only one living in the Brown Lands who knew how to read; his granny, who had also been a conjurer, had taught him the skill as part of his magical training.

Just about the only friend Old Bifur had was a tough, mean, ugly old razorback hog that ran wild around his place. It rooted so much in his kitchen garbage that all the leftover spells started affecting it. Some folks swore up and down that the old razorback hog sometimes walked upright like man. One fellow claimed he'd seen the pig sitting in the rocker on Old Bifur's porch, chattering away to him while he stewed up some potions in the kitchen, but everyone discounted that story on account of the fellow who told it was a little too fond of moonshine.

"Raw Head" was the name Old Bifur gave the razorback, referring maybe to the way the ugly creature looked a bit like some of the dead pigs come butchering time down in Esgaroth. The razorback didn't mind the funny name. Raw Head kept following Old Bifur around his little cabin and rooting up the kitchen leftovers. He'd even walk to town with him when he came to the local mercantile to sell his home remedies.

Well, folks in town got so used to seeing Raw Head and Old Bifur around the town that it looked mighty strange one day around hog-driving time when Old Bifur came to the mercantile without him.

"Where's Raw Head?" the owner asked as he accepted his basket full of home-remedy potions. The liquid in the bottles swished in an agitate manner as Old Bifur said: "I ain't seen him around today, and I'm mighty worried. You seen him here in town?"

"Nobody's seen him around today. They would've told me if they did," the mercantile owner said. "We'll keep a lookout fer you."

"That's mighty kind of you. If you see him, tell him to come home straightaway," Old Bifur said. The mercantile owner nodded agreement as he handed over his weekly pay.

Old Bifur fussed to himself all the way home. It wasn't like Raw Head to disappear, especially not the day they went to town. The man at the mercantile always saved the best scraps for the mean old razorback, and Raw Head never missed a visit. When the old conjuring dwarf got home, he mixed up a potion and poured it onto a flat plate.

"Where's that old hog got to?" he asked the liquid. It clouded over and then a series of pictures formed. First, Old Bifur saw the good-for-nothing hunter that lived on the next ridge sneaking around the forest, rounding up razorback hogs that didn't belong to him. One of the hogs was Raw Head. Then he saw him taking the hogs down to Esgaroth, where folks from the next town were slaughtering their razorbacks. Then he saw his hog, Raw Head, slaughtered with the rest of the pigs and hung up for gutting. The final picture in the liquid was the pile of bloody bones that had once been his hog, and his scraped-clean head lying with the other hogsheads in a pile.

Old Bifur was infuriated by the death of his only friend. It was murder to him, plain and simple. Everyone in three counties knew that Raw Head was his friend, and that lazy, hog-stealing, good-for-nothing hunter on the ridge was going to pay for slaughtering him.

Now Old Bifur tried to practice white conjuring most of the time, but he knew the dark secrets too. He pulled out an old, secret book his granny had given him and turned to the very last page. He lit several candles and put them around the plate containing the liquid picture of Raw Head and his bloody bones. Then he began to chant: "Raw Head and Bloody Bones. Raw Head and Bloody Bones."

The light from the windows disappeared as if the sun had been snuffed out like a candle. Dark clouds billowed into the clearing where Old Bifur's cabin stood, and the howl of dark spirits could be heard in the wind that pummelled the treetops.

"Raw Head and Bloody Bones. Raw Head and Bloody Bones."

Bifur continued the chant until a bolt of silver lightning left the plate and streaked out through the window, heading in the direction of Esgaroth.

When the silver light struck Raw Head's severed head, which was piled on the hunter's wagon with the other hog heads, it tumbled to the ground and rolled until it was touching the bloody bones that had once inhabited its body. As the hunter's wagon rumbled away toward the ridge where he lived, the enchanted Raw Head called out: "Bloody bones, get up and dance!"

Immediately, the bloody bones reassembled themselves into the skeleton of a razorback hog walking upright, as Raw Head had often done when he was alone with Old Bifur. The head hopped on top of his skeleton and Raw Head went searching through the woods for weapons to use against the hunter. He borrowed the sharp teeth of a dying panther, the claws of a long-dead bear, and the tail from a rotting raccoon and put them over his skinned head and bloody bones.

Then Raw Head headed up the track toward the ridge, looking for the hunter who had slaughtered him. Raw Head slipped passed the thief on the road and slid into the barn where the hunter kept his horse and wagon. Raw Head climbed up into the loft and waited for the hunter to come home.

It was dusk when the hunter drove into the barn and unhitched his horse. The horse snorted in fear, sensing the presence of Raw Head in the loft. Wondering what was disturbing his usually-calm horse, the hunter looked around and saw a large pair of eyes staring down at him from the darkness in the loft.

The hunter frowned, thinking it was one of the local kids fooling around in his barn.

"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big eyes fer?" he snapped, thinking the kids were trying to scare him with some crazy mask.

"To see your grave," Raw Head rumbled very softly. The hunter snorted irritably and put his horse into the stall.

"Very funny. Ha,ha," The hunter said. When he came out of the stall, he saw Raw Head had crept forward a bit further. Now his luminous yellow eyes and his bear's claws could clearly be seen.

"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big claws fer?" he snapped. "You look ridiculous."

"To dig your grave…" Raw Head intoned softly, his voice a deep rumble that raised the hairs on the back of the hunter's neck. He stirred uneasily, not sure how the crazy kid in his loft could have made such a scary sound. If it really was a crazy kid.

Feeling a little spooked, he hurried to the door and let himself out of the barn. Raw Head slipped out of the loft and climbed down the side of the barn behind him. With nary a rustle to reveal his presence, Raw Head raced through the trees and up the path to a large, moonlight rock. He hid in the shadow of the huge stone so that the only things showing were his gleaming yellow eyes, his bear claws, and his raccoon tail.

When the hunter came level with the rock on the side of the path, he gave a startled yelp. Staring at Raw Head, he gasped: "You nearly knocked the heart right out of me, you crazy kid! Land o' Goshen, what have you got that crazy tail fer?"

"To sweep your grave…" Raw Head boomed, his enchanted voice echoing through the woods, getting louder and louder with each echo. The hunter took to his heels and ran for his cabin. He raced passed the old well-house, passed the wood pile, over the rotting fence and into his yard. But Raw Head was faster. When the hunter reached his porch, Raw Head leapt from the shadows and loomed above him. The hunter stared in terror up at Raw Head's gleaming yellow eyes in the ugly razorback hogshead, his bloody bone skeleton with its long bear claws, sweeping raccoon's tail and his gleaming sharp panther teeth.

"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big teeth fer?" he gasped desperately, stumbling backwards from the terrible figure before him.

"To eat you up, like you wanted to eat me!" Raw Head roared, descending upon the good-for-nothing hunter. The murdering thief gave one long scream in the moonlight. Then there was silence, and the sound of crunching.

Nothing more was ever seen or heard of the lazy hunter who lived on the ridge. His horse also disappeared that night. But sometimes folks would see Raw Head roaming through the forest in the company of his friend Old Bifur. And once a month, on the night of the full moon, Raw Head would ride the hunter's horse through town, wearing the old man's blue overalls over his bloody bones with a hole cut-out for his raccoon tail. In his bloody, bear-clawed hands, he carried his raw, razorback hogshead, lifting it high against the full moon for everyone to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Irish dullahan or dulachán ("dark man") is a headless fairy, usually riding a black horse and carrying his head under his inner lower thigh (or holding it high to see at great distance). He wields a whip made from a human corpse's spine. When the dullahan stops riding, a death occurs. The dullahan calls out a name, at which point the named person immediately dies. In another version, he is the headless driver of a black carriage.A similar figure, the gan ceann ("without a head"), can be frightened away by wearing a gold object or putting one in his path.The most prominent Scottish tale of the headless horseman concerns a man named Ewen decapitated in a clan battle at Glen Cainnir on the Isle of Mull. The battle denied him any chance to be a chieftain, and both he and his horse are headless in accounts of his haunting of the area
> 
> The German Legends of the Brothers Grimm (Deutsche Sagen) recount two German folk tales of a headless horseman being spotted with their own eyes.
> 
> One is set near Dresden in Saxony. In this tale, a woman from Dresden goes out early one Sunday morning to gather acorns in a forest. At a place called "Lost Waters", she hears a hunting horn. When she hears it again, she turns around and she sees a headless man in a long grey coat sitting on a grey horse. In another German tale, set in Brunswick in Lower Saxony, a headless horseman called "the wild huntsman" blows a horn to warn hunters not to ride the next day, because they will meet with an accident. In some German versions of the headless horseman, he seeks out the perpetrators of capital crimes. In others, he has a pack of black hounds with tongues of fire.
> 
>  
> 
> The Headless Horseman is a fictional character from the short story "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" by American author Washington Irving. The story, from Irving's collection of short stories entitled The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent., has worked itself into known American folklore/legend through literature and film. The legend of the Headless Horseman begins in Sleepy Hollow, New York, during the American Revolutionary War. Traditional folklore holds that the Horseman was a Hessian artilleryman who was killed during the Battle of White Plains in 1776. He was decapitated by an American cannonball, and the shattered remains of his head were left on the battlefield while his comrades hastily carried his body away. Eventually they buried him in the cemetery of the Old Dutch Church of Sleepy Hollow, from which each Halloween night he rises as a malevolent ghost, furiously seeking his lost head.
> 
>  
> 
> The jhinjhār is a headless horseman found in the folklore of Rajasthan. Unlike most headless horsemen, the jhinjhār is often portrayed as a heroic figure. Most stories about the jhinjhār describe it as a Rajput prince who lost its head while defending a village or caravan from bandits but refusing to back down even after being beheaded, while other versions describe it as a Mughal cavalryman trying to defend its prince. In Madh Pradesh, folklore states that jhinjhārs are said to be born out of violent and wrongful deaths that occur in protecting innocents: they do not harm innocent people, and are also said to fight on foot as well as mounted on horseback. Jhinjhārs are said to be vulnerable to powdered indigo dye, which, if thrown on them, can dispel their frenzy and allow them to die peacefully.
> 
> The comic book series Chopper, written by Martin Shapiro, is a modern-day reimagining of the headless horseman. It features a headless outlaw biker on a motorcycle who collects the souls of sinners. The only people who can see him are those who have consumed a strange new Ecstasy-like drug that triggers their sixth sense and opens a gateway to the afterlife. During the hallucinogenic high, any characters who have committed significant sins are hunted by the headless ghost. Once the drug wears off the victim is safe and beyond the headless horseman's ghostly reach.


	7. Close your eyes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Bofur. I heard something similar to this story around a campfire when I was much younger and when I tried writing a Halloween it decided it wanted twisting to become part of the Hobbit verse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Traumatic death  
>  : Revenge

Close Your Eyes.

A travelling sales-dwarf came to Tooksborough for a few days, selling his wares from door to door. He was a friendly dwarf with a warm grin, lopsided hat and a joke for everyone. He was accompanied by a large white dog that rode on the wagon beside him; companion, friend, and guardian of his wares.

The sales-dwarf and dog were making their way out of town when a murder was discovered in one of the places in which they had sported their wares. Suspicion blossomed at once against the stranger—certainly no one the townsfolk knew was capable of committing such a crime!—and a lynch mob chased the dwarf out of town and strung him up on a tree beside the road.

The white dog howled and barked and roared as the mob carried his master away. More than one man was bitten as the dwarf, still screaming out his innocence, was silenced forever. One fellow finally shot an arrow at the white dog, wounding it enough to send it whimpering away. It soon became obvious to everyone in town that they'd hanged the wrong man. The corpse, dangling obscenely from the tree at Waymeet, was a grisly reminder of the community crime. They'd have cut down the dwarf and given him a decent burial, but the white dog stood guard over his master's corpse day after day, savagely threatening anyone who came near the hanging tree. So the dwarf's body withered and rotted underneath the tree beside the road, filling the air with a terrible stench as it desiccated in the summer heat. It was many weeks before body and dog disappeared from the Waymeet.

A few months later, a hobbit who'd participated in the salesman's lynching happened to be walking down the Waymeet at night. As he drew near the hanging tree, his nose wrinkled in disgust as a whiff of rotten flesh swept past his face and his stomach roiled. He staggered backward, his arm over his nose, wondering what was causing the terrible stench. Then he spotted the hanging tree, and saw upon it a glowing, desiccated corpse dangling obscenely by the neck from one of its branches. And beneath the ghostly figure stood a huge, white dog with glowing red eyes.

The dog growled menacingly when he saw the hobbit on the road, and the hobbit stumbled backward over the rut in the centre of the road and then started to run. With an ear-shattering series of barks, the white dog pursued the fleeing hobbit with supernatural speed. The Halfling whipped this way and that, spinning around, leaping into the woods to dodge around trees, trying to avoid the huge dog snapping at his heels. If he fell, the dog would be at his throat immediately.

The hobbit crashed headlong into a tree and flung himself upward. Below him, the ghost dog leapt, and sharp teeth closed on the hobbit's hand. Pain ripped through him, and he climbed higher, trying to shake off the glowing beast. "Let go!" he screamed, kicking at it again. Suddenly, the white dog turned to mist before his eyes and swirled away. Realising that the white dog might reappear at any moment, the hobbit seized his chance. He slithered down the tree and ran all the way home. His wife sent a neighbour to fetch the healer, who stitched up his hand as best he could. The white dog had nearly severed the palm, and the nerves were so badly damaged that he was crippled in that hand for the rest of his life.

The hobbit later learned that every person who had participated in the lynching of the salesman was attacked by the ghost of the white dog. Many—like himself—were crippled in some way. As for the fellow who'd shot and injured the white dog—well, his four-year-old son disappeared and was never seen again.


	8. Jump out of your skin.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili and Fili.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Possessive partner.   
>  : Death.

Jump out of your skin.

Fili toppled into love as soon as he set eyes on Kili, the beautiful new transfer student. He had masses of long black hair and eyelashes so long they got tangled in his curls when he leaned over his work bench. Fili had a withdrawn nature, though not by inclination. He'd learned the hard way that people avoided him when they heard about his insane uncle; locked away in a cell of the garrison prison. But he had to overcome his taciturn nature or risk losing Kili to one of the other fellows that panted after him. So the healer's apprentice volunteered to tutor him, Kili, in one of his classes. After that, it was easy. Kili toppled into love with Fili as madly as he was in love with him. They went everywhere together, hardly bearing to part for classes.

Fili lived in a bubble of joy, until the day he saw Kili speaking to a good-looking fellow who lived in the same barracks. They were laughing together over something one of their masters had said in history class, and a shaft of sheer jealousy pierced Fili's gut. How dare he laugh with another man? He confronted his Kili with his perceived trespass, and he stared at him incredulously. "You're crazy!" he said. He winced, reminded of his uncle, and shouted insults at Kili until he stalked off in a rage.

They made up over dinner, and things were fine for a while, until Fili saw Kili borrow a quill from a handsome strawberry-blonde fellow at the library. That set him off again. They hissed angry words at each other until the librarian kicked them out. Fili huddled on the narrow bed in his barracks until black anger gave way to common sense. He called Kili and apologized. He accepted his apology, and they were back together.

Fili was scheduled to take Kili to a local ball on Friday night, so he rushed back to the dorm to dress in his best. As he turned to leave, the Fili noticed that a blade had fallen out of his healer's bag and lay haphazardly on his desk. He thrust it carelessly inside the bag and went to pick up his boyfriend and escort him to the ball.

The couple had a fabulous evening; dancing and drinking and eating. They left the party around midnight and walked hand-in-hand back to Fili's dorm room for a nightcap. When they reached the entry way, Kili veered off for a moment to ask a red-haired fellow from one of his art classes about an assignment that was due the next day. Fili was instantly filled with gut-gnawing jealousy. When Kili re-joined him, he hustled her upstairs to his room and shouted: "You flirt with every man you meet, you tramp!"

"You are crazy!" Kili shouted back. "Stark raving mad!"

Fili saw red. "Don't call me mad," he said, his hand groping for the loose knife in his bag on the desk. When the mists cleared from his eyes, Kili lay dead at his feet, his throat cut from ear to ear. The whole room was covered with red gore and his masses of black hair lay in a pool of steaming blood.

Fili's brain went into overdrive. Hide the body. Clean up the blood. Invent an alibi. But first... He stared at the dead boy he had loved so much, then he knelt beside the body and slowly cut off his face. He wrapped the face carefully in plastic before putting it in his desk drawer. Then he cleaned up the blood and hid the body in a tunnel near the laundry room.

The next morning, Fili told his roommate Kili had broken up with him and gone home in a snit without finishing his classes. The roommate accepted the story without question, and didn't appear to notice the way the blonde peered obsessively inside his desk drawer.

Fili finally tore himself away Kili's face to attend his 11 o'clock class. When he returned at lunchtime, he found his roommate leaning out of the open window, looking ill. "I think I have flu. I'd best run to the healers' wing and pick up something for it," the roommate said when he came in.

"Want me to take a look?" the Fili asked, reaching for his bag.

His roommate turned white: "No! Thank you! Don't bother," he gasped, practically running from the room.

Fili shrugged in exasperation, peered into the drawer at Kili's face, and settled down to work on a paper he had due next week. Downstairs, his roommate was screaming for the city guard.

Fili went ballistic when the guard came with a warrant to arrest him. They manhandled him out of his chair while a grim-faced guard took a look in the desk drawer. When he saw the dead boy's face, the officer swore violently and vomited on the floor.

Fili was placed in the asylum with his uncle, who was locked away in a padded room next door. Every day, while his enraged uncle tried to kill his attendants, the bereft boyfriend wept and stared out the window; seeing Kili's lovely face in the branches of a nearby tree. The face seemed to sway to the rhythm of his uncle's fists as his insane relative pounded and pounded at the walls.

Back in the dorm, the ghost of a young boy in a blood-stained velvet still floats along the hallways, searching for his face.


	9. The Sacrificial Beggar Child.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is based on a creepy Scandinavian folk story I heard a few months back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Illness.  
>  : Death.  
>  :Animal cruelty.  
>  :Murder.   
>  : Death of a child.

The Sacrificial Beggar Child. 

It was a cursed autumn, the streets churned into a foul smelling mud and the air hung heavy with sulphur tinged fog that wreathed the low lying buildings. Disease had sprung up and was spreading through the population that lived in Noglond, clinging to the slopes of Ered Luin. Babes, few and far between as they were, died in their sleep. Still births were more common than not, with mothers’ milk drying up in their breasts. The old clung on while those who should have weathered the disaster weakened and succumbed to the disease, bones becoming brittle, muscles wasting and minds warping. The leaders of the population and heads of families were beside themselves with worry on how to halt the devastation that was being wrought on an already broken peoples. Nothing they tried seemed to work and every passing day brought new tragedy until an old man, dressed in white, came along with sage advice on how to stop the disease. 

His wrinkled face seemed sad as he told them that only a sacrifice would put an end to the disease. His white hair blew around them and he leant heavily on his carved white-ash staff as he explained they would need to bury a living thing in the ground. The elders, leaders and council were disgusted but so desperate were they to stop the disease that they took his advice. They began by burying a rooster alive in the ground, but their cruel act failed to produce any results. 

Worry crept in and still the disease ran riot, and so with sad hearts they tried for a larger sacrifice. One that would mean more to a poor community such as theirs. Their next attempt was to bury an entire goat alive. Unfortunately this act too also failed. 

Yet more died and so they decided that the only sacrifice worthy enough to end the spread of the disease would be an actual dwarf. No living family was yet willing to provide such a sacrifice, and so they decided on an orphaned male-child and offered him food and warmth to bait their trap. The unassuming child fell for their trap completely, and was dropped into a hole prepared far from the villagers’ eyes and ears. The council immediately began shovelling dirt on top of the hapless child. The male-child was terrified and tried to plead with them to stop burying him alive, but they continued on with their work without mercy. Before long, they had completed their gruesome task and the child was left to die, in the hopes he would end the spread of the deadly disease. 

Over the following days the disease seemed to halt its spread, and by the time the first snows fell it had claimed its last victim. A thick blanket of white covered the disturbed ground, hiding the scene of the Councils’ hideous crime. As the years wore on many forced themselves to forget, and yet their people still never seemed to prosper. 

The daughter of their royalty had fallen to the jaws of a hungry wolf when out hunting, her blood soaking the earth only a year after their act and leaving two young boys without a mother. Her consort had fallen to an orc attack but four months later. The youngest son of the crown fell prey to cut throats as he prepared for his coming of age rituals in the woodland surrounding the mountain. 

Above their dwellings, hidden in the mists that swirled the mountain peak the mage dressed in white smirked as he finally got his revenge. The line of Durin would never again be strong.


	10. Lycanthropy

_Lycanthropy. ___

____

__He felt his skin itch and crawl under the light of the cresting full moon. Hidden among the shrub and surrounded by unknown dwarves he fought back the change threatening to tear his mind and body apart. Unnaturally long nails scrabbled at the dirt as he bit back groans and snarls around his extended canines. Pain thrummed through his veins as the blood moon rose higher bathing the earth in its cold light, muscles spasming as he slowly lost control._ _

__A howl pierced the still night air and thirteen dwarves jumped for weapons ears and eyes straining for the threat. Unearthly screeches flowed from the unnaturally moon lit landscape, as dark shapes emerged rapidly surrounded them. Dwarvish blades met with teeth, claw and fur as the worgs broke upon their ranks first. Orcs followed quickly, forcing the already beleaguered dwarrow into yet tighter formations. The battle hardened among them itching to shed blood, but unable to leave the untested undefended._ _

__A roar ripped through the battle song, orc, warg and dwarf alike freezing. A shadow flickered in the firelight, bathed red in the blood moon it grew in size. Sea-green, pupil-less eyes glowed hungrily as the yelps of a worg broke the standoff. The creature moved too quick for dwarven eye, but the sound of pained cries and terrified yowls marked its path. Weapons still raised the dwarrow huddled closer together, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. A fine mist of blood sprayed over them, as silence finally fell._ _

__The shape turned to the closest dwarf, its amber fur stained dark with blood. Slowly it stalked forward, closing its jaw carefully around a shaking wrist. Frozen with fear the dwarves watched as Ori raised his free hand it press lightly on the massive head. Relief flowed through the group as the creature snorted, released the young dwarf and left without a backward glance. The fire flickered and died, leaving the dwarves standing surrounded by the corpses of their enemies and the world painted red._ _

__They did not wait for the dawn, nor notice they were a member down. The camp hastily broken, curses and apologies flung to the wizard who had reappeared, the worn face turning grey and promised of explanations falling from the Istari’s lips ‘as soon as they were far away’._ _

__So they marched, even their night eyes failing to spot the shadow stalking their every move._ _

__Dawn broke and the shadow struck away from the still panicked dwarves, even as they slowed. The shape staggered into the underbush, pained whimpers falling from curved fangs. The dwarves finally stopped, thirteen pairs of eyes turned to the wizard for answers, for reassurances._ _

__Gandalf talked for a long while, the sun slowly creeping into the sky. Ori was the first to break._ _

__“But what manner of creature was it?”_ _

__The wizard stilled and eyed the young dwarf, “An abomination.”_ _

__Any further conversation was halted by a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins falling into their circle, grumbling and looking much less put together than they were used to._ _

__“Well I’m charmed by knowing you also wizard!” he snapped, while carefully checking Ori’s wrist. “Abomination? Really?” he snorted, “if you can’t tell a wolf from a monster you are all stupid.”_ _

__Thorin made a derisive noise. “A wolf halfling? And I suppose you know more than a wizard?”_ _

__Bilbo shot him a tooth filled smile, eyes glowing subtly and released Ori’s arm. “Aye, a wolf!”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lycanthropy.  
> Noun: The mythical transformation of a person into a wolf. 
> 
> • Archaic: A form of madness involving the delusion of being an animal, usually a wolf, with correspondingly altered behaviour. 
> 
> Origins  
> Greek  
> Lukos (wolf)
> 
>  
> 
> Greek Modern Latin late 16th century  
> Lukanthrõpia lycanthropia lycanthropy
> 
> Greek  
> Anthõpos (man)
> 
> Late 16th century (as a supposed form of madness): from modern Latin lycanthropia, from Greek Lukanthrõpia, from lukos ‘wolf’ + Anthõpos ‘man’.


	11. Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Iluvatar: and he made the first...And he spoke to them...and they sang before him and, he was glad. 
> 
> Then the voices of the Ainur, like unto harps and lutes, and pipes and trumpets, and violas and organs, and like unto countless choirs singing with words, began to fashion the themeof Iluvatar to great music...  
>  _J.R.R.Tolkien...The Simarillion ___
> 
> __
> 
> __Gimli and Legolas._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own none of the Simarillion, and yet it was when I was reading it I remembered the dwarrow in Tolkien's work would await in the Halls of Mahal until the sundering when they would rebuild Arda as it should be.

_Music. ___

__The music was haunting, the sound of the strings echoing around the abandoned hall. A cracked window pane let in a soft breeze that gently ruffled the draped cobwebs and stirred eddies of dust from the floor. The night was cold, but the moon and stars shone bright bathing everything in a silver glow. The few villagers who dared to brave the streets at night froze as the sounds of a fiddle reached their ears, within minutes the streets were empty and every door and window barred._ _

__The mansion itself was set away from the village, abutting the wild forest that had crept closer with the passing years. Once majestic in its beauty the mansion had softened with age, no less beautiful for over a decade of supposed neglect. Alone in the sprawling building its owner flitted from shadow to shadow, his lilting voice blending with the fiddle’s music, his hair glowing gold in the star light._ _

__As the tempo of the music increased a single shape appeared at the forest edge. Shorter and more sturdy than the humans who had hidden from the darkness the shadow draped figure made its way across a silver tinted lawn. The music bent the air around him as he spun, red hair flying freely and thick fingers caught the thrown instrument with ease. No seconds were wasted as he took up the tune and allowed his deep voice to follow the song._ _

__The woodland started to sway as if in a strong wind, trees creaking as they shook off age old sleep. The music soared higher and drilled into the still sleeping earth. A flash of white teeth showed from behind a red beard as the very ground beneath his feet rolled. Stones trembled as the song wove on, dust shivering in the air and leaves swirling along the ground._ _

__A second fiddle joined the first, pitched deeper the first singer joined his companion and they settled on the mansion steps facing the village. The music reached a crescendo as the stars began to wane. Roots curled up to the very edge of where they stood, dancing steps long forgotten. Vines started to snake across the ground, curling up the very walls of the mansion as the song and music got faster still. Shrubs forced their way from barren earth as the land heaved and shook. The once small stream becoming deep and fast, sides steep and slippery._ _

__As the first light of the day crested the horizon the music just stopped, the figures back into memory and the once busy village was simply gone. All that remained hidden in a thriving forest were two fiddles lying side by side, their bows crossed, together even at the end._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you imagine the terror to hear that music, to know that your days are at an end?


	12. Vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori and Bilbo

_Vampire. ___

__“Every creature of this planet is either considered predator or prey. It’s up to you to discover which one you are, especially when realizing there’s more than hobbits and animals that roam the earth. Creatures that are supposed to be myths, legends and because of this there are a few of us that hunt in the light. There are few of us who can truly bond the both sides of our nature. To be both predator and prey.”_ _

__Bilbo gasped awake, wide eyes taking in the sunlit halls of Rivendale as his mother’s words haunted his dreams. He knew now what he had seen in those brilliant green eyes, what the others around him seemed unable to sense. He eyed the twelve dwarves around him and snorted at the ease in which they slept. Deciding he couldn’t lie still for any longer he left his bed roll and wandered the halls of the elven home to find the kitchens._ _

__It was seated here that Nori found him, green eyes sharp with distrust. Bilbo merely raised his glass of heated apple juice and smiled blandly. In a deliberate show he went back to reading, baring the back of his neck to the dwarf. His skin felt chilled, but he couldn’t be the first to break._ _

__The red-haired dwarf ignored the offer and the insult, moving around the table to pour his own hot drink, eyes never leaving the hobbit. Bilbo scoffed and finally met those eyes. He took note of the minutely slitted pupils that betrayed the dwarf to be born not bitten, mentally adding the other Ri brothers to his list, and again tilted his head exposing his neck._ _

__This time the red head took the bait and sharp teeth sank deeply into his throat. Allowing himself to sag onto Nori, Bilbo uttered a soft sigh even as the other drank deeply from his life essence. His mother had been right, he only hoped the dwarf currently feeding from him would return the favour if he needed it._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vampire.  
> Noun.  
> 1). (In European folklore) a corpse supposed to leave its grave at night to drink the blood of the living by biting their necks with long pointed canine teeth.  
> 2). A small bat that feed of the blood of mammals or birds using its two sharp incisor teeth and anticoagulant saliva, found mainly in tropical America.   
> 3). (In a theatre) a small spring trapdoor used for sudden disappearances from a stage. 
> 
> Origin
> 
> Turkish Hungarian French (mid 18th century)  
> Uber (witch) vampire vampire


	13. brùnaidh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hurt me, I am mean to the brothers Ri.

Brùnaidh.  
The cold was biting in the halls, despite the heavy tapestries and furs that had been hung on the walls, and the attempt at a fire going in the hearth.   
The tailor was bent over his work, stitching away when he spoke, “Children are a burden!”

“Children are a blessing,” Said the wizened old lady sitting in a nook.

It was the tailor’s mother who spoke. She was a very old dwarf and nearly helpless. All hay she sat in her chair knitting rugs. 

“What have my three lads ever done to help me?” continued the tailor, sadly. “They do nothing but play. If I send Dori on a job, he just hangs around doing nothing. If I ask Nori to work, he does it so unwillingly that I would rather do it myself. Ori is still so young that he cannot work. Since their mother died I have indeed had a hard time.”

At this moment the three boys came in. The arms of the two eldest were full of moss which they dropped on the floor by the fire to dry, the youngest trailing them like a ducking added his own small handful. 

“Is there any supper, grandmother?” asked Dori. 

“No, my child, only some bread for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Oh, grandmother, we are so hungry!” wailed Nori as Ori’s eyes filled with tears. 

What can I do for you, my poor children?” said the good dam. 

“Story pwease,” lisped little Ori, curling up between his brothers. 

“Good plan brother, tell us a story please grandmother, so we may forget that we are hungry,” stated Dori, “Perhaps tell us about the brùnaidh that used to live in your grandfather’s house.”

Nori jumped excitedly on his knees, “Oh! What was he like?”

“Like a little man, they say.”

“what did he do?”

He came early in the morning before anyone was awake, lighted the fire, swept the room and set out the breakfast. He never would be seen and was off before they could catch him. But they often heard him laughing and playing about the house.”

Ori’s eyes were wide as he tugged on Nori’s sleeve, the green eyed dwarfling smiled, “Did they give him any wages, Grandmother?”

She laughed softly, “No, my dear, he did the work for love. They always set a pan of clear water for him, and now and then, a bowl of bread and milk.”

Dori wrapped an arm around Ori’s shoulders, “Oh, grandmother, where did he go?”

“The Old Owl in the woods knows; I do not. When I was young many people used to go see the Old owl at moon-rise, and ask her what they wanted to know.”

“How I wish a brùnaidh would come and live with us!” cried Nori.

“Me too!” whispered little Ori.

Dori turned to their father, “Will you let us set out a pan of water for the brùnaidh, father?” he asked. 

“You may set out what you like, my lad, but you must go to bed now.”

The dwarflings brought out a pan of water. Then they climbed the ladder to the room over the kitchen. 

Dori and Ori were soon in the land of dreams, but Nori lay awake thinking how he could find a brùnaidh and get him to live in the home. “There is an owl that lives in the grove,” he thought. “It may be the Old Owl herself. When the moon rises, I’ll go find her.”  
*

The moon rose like gold and went up into the heavens like silver. Nori opened his eyes and ran to the window. “The moon has risen,” he muttered, “And it is time for me to go.” Downstairs he crept softly and out into the night. 

“Hoot!” Hoot!” cried a voice from the grove near the house. 

‘That’s the Old Owl!” thought Nori. He ran to a big tree and looked up. There he saw the Old Owl, sitting on a branch and staring at him with yellow eyes. 

“Oh dear,” whispered Nori, for he did not like the owl much, at all. 

“Come up here!” the owl cried.

Nori climbed the tree and sat face to face with her on a too narrow branch. 

“Now,” snapped the owl, “What does a snack like you want?”

Nori gulped. “Please, he said, I want to know where to find the brùnaidh, and how to get one to come and live with us.”

The owl appeared to be laughing and Nori swallowed again even as its strange voice spoke again, “That’s it? I know of three brùnaidh. “

Nori cheered, “Where do they live?”

“In your house,” stated the owl. 

Nori was confused, and starting to doubt this plan. “In our house!” he exclaimed, “Whereabouts? Why don’t they work?”

“One of them is too little,” cackled the owl. 

“But why don’t the other two do something?” Nori asked, the hairs on the back of his neck rising he ploughed on, “Nobody does any work at our house except Father.”

“They are idle,” snapped the owl. 

“Then we don’t want them,” said Nori, “What is the use of having brùnaidh in the house if they do nothing to help us?”

“Perhaps they don’t know what to do,” the owl was starting to sound bored. 

“I wish you would tell me where to find them,” muttered Nori, “I could tell them what to do.”

The owl released a noise that could have been a snort, “Could you really?”

Nori drew himself up, “Of course I could. They might get up early in the morning and sweep the house, and light the fire, and spread the table before my father comes down stairs!”

“So they might,” agreed the owl. “Well then, I can tell you where to find one of the brownies and he can help you with his brothers. Go to the north side of the pond, where the moon is shining on the water, turn yourself around three times while you say this charm:  
‘Twist me and turn me and show me the elf-  
I looked in the water and saw-‘  
Then look in the water and think of a word that rhymes with ‘elf’ and make the charm complete.”

Nori’s suspicion was growing but he was determined to find the brùnaidh and so he ran to the place he knew very well. He followed the instructions and looked in and saw…himself. 

“Why, there’s no-one here but myself. I can’t think of the right word. What can it be? I’ll go back and as the Old Owl,” he thought. And back he went, and there sat the owl as before. 

“Oh-ho,” the owl chuckled as Nori climbed up, “Did you find the word?”

“No!” snapped Nori, “I could find no word that rhymes with ‘elf’ except ‘myself’.”

“Well that is the word! Now, do you know where your brothers are?”

“Hopefully in bed in the loft,” whispered Nori. 

The owl hooted long and sinister. “Then all your questions are answered. Good night!” and the Old Owl began to shake her feathers. 

“Don’t go yet,” yelped Nori passed his own reluctance, “I don’t understand you. I am not a brownie, am I?”

The owl looked at him with cool eyes. “Well you weren’t!”

*

The tailor found his life much easier from that time on. He grieved the three boys who had ran away from home, but in the end, was much happier. 

The grandmother, well she was another matter. No matter how she tried she could not catch site of the three creatures who now kept their home. And she missed her boys dreadfully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brownie/brounie (Lowland Scots) or brùnaidh, ùruisg, or gruagach (Scottish Gaelic) is a mythical household spirit from English and Scottish folklore. Brownies are especially popular in the North. In this region, brownies are commonly conflated with hobs. A brownie is the Scottish and Northern English counterpart of the Scandinavian tomte, the Slavic domovoi and the German Heinzelmännchen.  
> In folklore, a brownie resembles the hob, similar to a hobgoblin. Thomas Keightley describes the brownie as "a personage of small stature, wrinkled visage, covered with short curly brown hair, and wearing a brown mantle and hood".  
> Brownies are said to inhabit houses and aid in tasks around the house. However, they do not like to be seen and will only work at night, traditionally in exchange for small gifts of food. Among food, they especially enjoy porridge and honey. They usually abandon the house if their gifts are called payments, or if the owners of the house misuse them. Brownies make their homes in an unused part of the house, often in attics and holes in walls.  
> Every manor house had its ùruisg, and in the kitchen, close by the fire was a seat, which was left unoccupied for him. One house on the banks of the River Tay was even until the beginning of the twentieth century believed to have been haunted by such a sprite, and one room in the house was for centuries called "Seòmar Bhrùnaidh" (Brownie’s room).  
> Brownies seldom spoke with humans, but they held frequent and affectionate conversations with one another. They had general assemblies as well, usually held on a remote, rocky shore. In a certain district of the Scottish Highlands, "Peallaidh an Spùit" (Peallaidh of the Spout), "Stochdail a’ Chùirt", and "Brùnaidh an Easain" (Brownie of the little waterfall) were names of note at those congresses. According to Scottish toponymist William J. Watson, every stream in Breadalbane had an ùruisg once, and their king was Peallaidh. (Peallaidh's name is preserved in "Obair Pheallaidh", known in English as "Aberfeldy".) It may be the case, that ùruisg was conflated with some water sprite, or that ùruisg were originally water sprites conflated with brownies.


	14. Selkie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a Scottish legend called 'The Selkie Bride'.

Selkie.

Long ago, on the Gulf of Lune, a fisher-hobbit spent all day at sea but only caught a few small fish. Night began to fall, and still the hobbit had only a meagre catch. Sadly, he rowed to shore and beached his boat. As he walked across the pebbly shore towards his smial, he heard the astonishing sound of singing voices. He turned and saw, as few people have seen, several Selkie people playing on shore. Quickly he moved back toward the beach, but when the Selkie people saw him, they slipped into the sea and disappeared beneath the dark waves.

 

The hobbit could not believe his eyes. He knew few of his people ever saw selkies. These seal folks cast aside their skins now and then to come onto shore in humanoid form.

 

“I must’a been dreamin’,” he muttered, and again he turned towards his smial. But this time as he turned, he caught the sight of a seal skin lying on a nearby rock. He picked up the skin and slung it over his shoulder. “No one will believe me unless I show them this,” he said. He also thought he might earn a copper or two by selling this amazing find.

 

 

As he followed the path to his smial, he heard someone wailing behind him. When he turned, he saw a beautiful young hobbitess sobbing uncontrollably.

 

“Beautiful mistress,” said the fisher-hobbit, “Why do you weep?”

 

“Kind sir,” the lady replied through her tears, “You have my sealskin. Please give it back, for I belong to the Selkie people, and I cannot live in the water without my skin.”

 

The fisher-hobbit had fallen in love at first sight with the hobbitess, and because he was young and headstrong he thought he must have her, and would not return her sealskin. “Come with me and be my wife,” he said. “I love you, and without your sealskin you’ll have to live on land. “

 

“No, please, sir,” cried the young hobbitess. “My folk will be worried about me, and I shall never be happy on land.”

 

But the young fisher-hobbit was determined to make this beautiful hobbitess his bride. “My smial is a cosy place, and will keep you warm by my fire and I’ll feed you fresh fish, and I promise you will live a happy life on land.”

 

The young selkie knew she could do nothing, for the fisher-hobbit was determined, and he refused to return her sealskin. And so, crying and sighing, she followed him home to his smial. The fisher-hobbit hid the sealskin in his jersey for many days afterwards, afraid his beautiful bride-to-be would slip away.

 

After a while, she settled down to life in the smial, and when he saw that she was happier, he stuffed the sealskin inside a crevice in the chimney where he knew she would never find it. Soon afterwards they married, and all in all they led a happy life, quiet and peaceful.

 

For many years they lived together, and the Selkie woman learned to love her husband, for he had a kind and generous heart. She gave birth to seven children, and he was a good father.

 

Sometimes, though, the children would find their mother sitting on the beach and gazing wistfully out at the sea.

 

“Mother,” the children would say, “Why do you look so sad?”

 

She would shake her head and kiss them and say, “You would not understand, children. But never mind. I’ve simply been dreaming too long.”

 

One day the fisher-hobbit and the three eldest children went to sea in their boat. The next three went to the village to buy some provisions. The mother and her youngest child were left at home alone.

 

The hobbitess looked out of the window of the cottage and saw the waves crashing on the shore. Far away she could see, on the slick, black rocks, the seals playing and barking and singing. She sighed deeply, and her youngest child said, “Mother, you look so sad whenever you look at the sea.”

 

Without thinking, the hobbitess said, “That’s because I was born in the sea, and that is the home to which I can never return because your father hid my seal skin.”

 

Now the child, like all hobbit children, had heard tales of the Selkie folk, and she knew right away what her mother was. At once she ran to the chimney and pulled the sealskin from its hiding place.

 

“When I was here alone with father once, he took this from its place and started at it. I knew it must be something special, and now I know what it is.”

 

The woman embraced the sealskin, and then her child. “My darling child, I’ll always love you,” she said, and then, clasping the sealskin to her heart, she ran toward the sea. There, slipping into her skin, she dived into the sea.

 

Not long afterwards, the fisher-hobbit passed a group of seals as he rowed to shore. As he passed he noticed a slender female seal who gazed at the boat with a strange expression on her face. And then letting out a sad, farewell cry, she dived into the water. She was never again seen onshore.

 

Though the fisher-hobbit missed his wife and the children missed their mother, they knew she was happy in the world where she belonged, and her happiness gave them a measure of joy.

 

*

 

Five generations later an aged Meriadoc Brandybuck ignored the fearful whispers of the human soldiers surrounding him and knelt in the damp sand to embrace the large seal. Tears of joy fell from aye-whitened eyes as he pressed a kiss to its smooth head. “Thank you, great-mother,” he whispered, before walking calmly into the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Selkies (also spelled silkies, sylkies, selchies, Scots: selkie fowk) are mythological creatures found in Irish, Scottish, Faroese, and Icelandic folklore. Selkies are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. The stories frequently revolve around female selkies being coerced into relationships with humans by someone stealing and hiding their sealskin, often not regaining the skin until years later upon which they commonly return to the sea, forsaking their human family. The legend is apparently most common in the Northern Isles of Scotland and is very similar to those of swan maidens.


	15. Fae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel.  
> Modern AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The categorization of fairies based on court is whether or not a fairy is light or dark.

_Fae born. ___

__Tauriel knew she was different from her friends. She had spent her early childhood in Faerie, but left when her mother escaped back to mortal earth. Her teachers praised her imagination and her story telling skills and her childhood was relatively peaceful and very happy. She grew in beauty and her Sidhe magic flourished when she hit eighteen. At twenty-one she lost her mother to human disease that should never have been able to touch them. By twenty four she was embroiled in the political war of Faerie, torn between protecting her human friends and destroying those who had been the cause of her mother’s demise._ _

__Time in Faerie passes differently and it wasn’t until she returned to earth, scar covered and broken, but eager to see her friends she found out how long had passed. Her friends, old and worn failed to recognise her and something in her bright soul simply snapped._ _

__

__By birth she could have claimed the throne for the Seelie court, by nurture she became the most feared warrior of the Unseelie court. Dangerous to human and fae alike. Hands that once healed tore foes limb from limb, eyes that once gave hope only led those who lived long enough to look in them to despair. She revelled in pain, laughed at the misery of others. Yet even in her darkest hours her mother’s pendant sat on her breast, and she allowed herself to dream._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Seelie court are known to seek help from humans, to warn those who have accidentally offended them, and to return human kindness with favors of their own. Still, a fairy belonging to this court will avenge insults and could be prone to mischief. The most common time of day to see them is twilight. Other names for the Seelie court are 'The Shining Throne' or 'The Golden Ones' and 'The Summer Court'. Seelies are known for playing pranks on humans and having a light hearted attitude, forgetting their sorrows quickly and not realizing how they might be affecting the humans they play pranks on.
> 
> The Unseelie Court consists of the darkly-inclined fairies. Unlike the Seelie Court, no offense is necessary to bring down their assaults. As a group (or "host"), they appear at night and assault travelers, often carrying them through the air, beating them, and forcing them to commit such acts as shooting at cattle. Like the beings of the Seelie Court who are not always benevolent, neither are the fairies of the Unseelie Court always malevolent. Most Unseelies can become fond of a particular human if they are viewed as respectful, and would choose to make them something of a pet. Some of the most common characters in the Unseelie Court are Bogies, Bogles, Boggarts, Abbey Lubbers and Buttery Spirits. The division into "Seelie" and "Unseelie" spirits was roughly equivalent to the division of Elves in Norse mythology, into "light" and "dark" distinctions.
> 
> In the French fairy tales as told by the précieuses, fairies are likewise divided into good and evil, but the effect is clearly literary. Many of these literary fairies seem preoccupied with the character of the humans they encounter.
> 
> The Welsh fairies, Tylwyth Teg, and the Irish Aos Sí are usually not classified as wholly good or wholly evil.


	16. Incubus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori centric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An incubus is a Lilin-demon in male form who, according to mythological and legendary traditions, lies upon sleeping women in order to engage in sexual activity with them. Its female counterpart is a succubus. Salacious tales of incubi and succubi have been told for many centuries in traditional societies. Some traditions hold that repeated sexual activity with an incubus or succubus may result in the deterioration of health, mental state, or even death

Incubus.

Ori leant against the stone wall, savouring the first draw from the elegant pipe he held in his fingers. The music was bordering on wild and he watched the dwarves around him loosing themselves in the dance. His eyes were hooded as he searched, waiting for just the right dwarf. The perfect victim, who wasn’t so much a victim. As he took another draw his eyes fell upon a dwarf standing separate from the crowd. As if feeling the eyes on him the dwarf looked back up, staring right back at Ori with dark eyes. He was extremely attractive, just like the rest of the current crowd, that’s how these dwarrow got what they wanted. The captivating beauty and charming their way into exactly what they wanted was something Ori understood well. A low laugh escaped his lips as Ori realised the dwarf had been staring at him, way before he had seen him. Tapping out his pipe Ori gave his prey a small smile before looking away. Knowing the other dwarf had answered the invitation when he felt the presence of another body leaning against the wall next to him a few minutes later. 

“Hey,” a deep voice spoke and Ori turned his head to look at the guy. He was even more attractive close up with intricate prison tattoos, strong body and a charismatic smile. 

“Hey...” Ori breathed back, dropping his voice to be low and alluring. The dwarf at his side inclined his head and raised his eyebrows as a smirk danced across his lips.

“You’re new, right?” He asked, lust filling his grey eyes as he looked Ori up and down, the threat in his voice clear to the predator in Ori. 

Ori ginned lazily, “Yeah”.

“What’s your name?”

“Does that really matter?” Ori smiled seductively, narrowing his eyes and a huge smile spread across the dwarf’s face. 

“Wana get out of here?” The dwarf at his side was almost impatient and Ori mentally laughed, thinking that mortals were so easy. 

“I’ve got a better idea,” Ori quipped, with a sinister smile. He laced his fingers with the dwarf’s and pulled him along as he pushed himself off the wall. He began weaving his way through the dancing dwarrow, the dwarf keeping up the whole time. Guiding them through the dark streets Ori led the stranger to a system of caves that were flooded with moonlight. 

Ori turned and before he could even get a chance to inhale the dwarf’s lips collided with his and strong hands drew their bodies together. Ori bit back a chuckle and brought on of his hands to press at the back of the dwarf’s neck and the other to rest on his muscled forearm. Strong hands were on his hips, pushing him still closer. They kiss, fast, rough and hard. The dwarf hungry for Ori’s body, Ori hungry for…something else. Ori found himself losing control and bit down on the lip caught between his teeth, hard enough to draw blood. 

“Ouch!” the dwarf pulled away with shock, even as lust flared in his eyes. 

Ori smirked and the dwarf before him grew confused. Waiting just long enough for the tension to hum between them Ori stepped forward again, resting his hands on the thick neck bring their faces back together, their lips barely touching. Ori felt the hunger grow in him as the dwarf tried to wiggle away in fear, until finally he began to feed. The rush that came with feeding was exhilarating and Ori groaned as the warm-hot, soothing-stinging, sensation washed over him and he started to feel powerful and refreshed. The strange dwarf went limp in his grasp, but Ori kept him upright with the one hand curled around his neck. The grey eyes of the dwarf’s eyes turned flat and pale, the body seemingly reduced as Ori drained the last of his energy from him. 

Eyes fluttering shut Ori let the body go as it turned to ash, scattering when it hit the ground. He rolled his eyes as twin round of applause echoed the caves. He met the eyes of his brothers. One Pair of sparkling green, and one glowing hazel and grinned, “Thanks!” He purred, “But I’m still hungry.” 

Ori wiped away the red lipstick that had smeared and adjusted the leather pants and sheer shirt that clung to his body. He threw his brothers a wink and sashayed back into the pandemonium, looking for his next victim.


	17. The Family Portraits.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young adult Aragorn.

Family portraits. 

Aragorn was a young ranger, alone on patrol for the first time in his life. Free from the boarders of Rivendale he often went hunting in the surrounding woods. As night fell he found himself in an unfamiliar part of the forest. He walked and walked, but couldn’t find the path. Wandering aimlessly in the dark, he eventually came to a small clearing where an old, ramshackle cabin stood. Tired, weary, and no small amount afraid, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. 

When he came closer to the cabin, he saw the door was standing ajar. Poking his head inside, he could see that the little cabin was completely empty, but there was a bed of sorts and a fire laid ready to light in the fireplace. His training insisted he check the area and so he dragged his weary feet around the small cottage, taking in the many windows and small herb plot. Seeing no signs of habitation or threat he returned to the door and entered the cottage. The fire took little time to light and Aragorn threw himself on the bed and decided to sleep there for the night. If the owner came back, he would ask his permission in the morning. 

A slight noise awakened him and so, lying on the bed, half-asleep, he looked around and was surprised to see the walls were covered with paintings. They appeared to be family portraits, all framed and painted in incredible detail. They seemed very life-like and without exception each family portrait was uglier than the next. The hideous faces in the paintings made him incredibly uneasy. The way they were painted made it seem as if the eyes were staring directly at him. It was incredibly disturbing. 

Aragorn decided that the only way he was going to get any sleep was to ignore the hideous faces staring at him. So, he turned on his side, facing the wall, laid his sword in easy reach and pulled the blanket over his head. He lay awake, ears straining for a long while, before he slowly drifted to sleep. 

In the morning, Aragorn awoke to find the cabin bathed in sunlight. He rubbed gritty eyes and looked up. He blinked in surprise as he discovered there were no family portraits on the walls of the cabin, only windows


End file.
